As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. It was at breakfast on this day that he told Ruth he had sent to Batavia for some dresses. A girl—at my age—is grown-up. There were lines in her face that age had not put there. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint.
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